


Obbligato

by MidoriKurenaiYume



Series: Neverending [3]
Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dialogue, F/M, Family Feels, Light Angst, Romantic Fluff, sombre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 03:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10654458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidoriKurenaiYume/pseuds/MidoriKurenaiYume
Summary: After a meeting with the king's council, Lady Arturia and her husband had a very honest conversation.Set three years after Signal.





	Obbligato

**Author's Note:**

> Since this story is a sequel, I reccomend reading Signal and Magnolia first, otherwise it won't make much sense. Again, please remember that the characters are rather OOC.  
> Title: from a Kalafina song (in the album 'Consolation'). ‘Obbligato’, in Latin and formal Italian, basically means ‘to be much obliged’ in the sense of gratefulness. In the more frequent use in Italian, it means ‘forced’, in the sense of someone being coerced to do something. I liked both meanings for this fic :)

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…

...

With her six-months-old daughter falling asleep in her arms and her two elder sons playing under her watchful eyes not far from where she was sitting, Arturia pondered over what Gilgamesh could be meaning to tell her. She had been absent from the latest councils, therefore she assumed it had something to do with what had most likely been discussed in them.

He had been unusually silent and reserved during the earlier brief meeting with King Enlil and the seigneury, and when one of the noblemen had held him back in order to clarify some particulars about the difficult distribution of the wheat – since the famine had just been overcome – he had nodded for her to go ahead, back to their children. Before she left, however, he had lowered his voice and told her he needed to speak with her later, in private.

She was delicately rocking her already slumbering child to sleep, her eyes tenderly regarding the newest member of their family, when the door opened and Lord Gilgamesh, heir to the throne and her husband, entered the room.

She only had the time to briefly glance in his direction before the boys left their games to run towards their father, only to slow down when they noticed their mother’s affectionate yet warning glance. Now mindful of their little sister’s sleep, they were slightly more careful in greeting Gilgamesh, who however wasn’t shy in readily welcoming them in his arms.

After the two toddlers excitedly informed him of their activities of the day, he encouraged them to resume their playing as he firmly shut the door behind himself and finally joined his wife, putting a hand on her shoulder while looking at their last born with a soft look in his usually stern eyes.

In the three years that had passed since she had first told him about being with child, their relationship had become more relaxed, and they had come to share many special moments. When they were alone, he always did something like touching her waist, her hand or her cheek, in a small but meaningful gesture. While having their children there with them hardly constituted as being alone, it was still an intimate, familiar setting, and he leaned down to brush his lips against her temple lightly.

When they were in public, they didn’t indulge in any kind of open display of affection – not that it had ever been Arturia’s intention or desire to do so – but they remained as near to each other as possible, not leaving anyone any doubts about their closeness. Lately, he had casually started to put his arm around her waist, the possessive gesture not lost on any of the uncountable number of people who watched their every movement, and it had led to speculations about her possible fourth pregnancy.

The thought brought a brief shadow over Arturia’s face, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

She had already accepted the inevitable – she was not going to dwell on things she could not change, for it would only be an additional, heavy burden.

…

…

Even if it had carefully been concealed from everyone except of course from her husband, from the king and from the physician – Merlin was his name, and he was a trustworthy, even if a bit brusque, elderly man extremely loyal to the crown – none of her pregnancies had been easy. Each had been more difficult than the one before, forcing her to long periods of rest in bed, and the last one in particular had been too hard on her, childbirth almost taking her life.

Three gestations extremely close in time, one after the other, had been too taxing on her body, and the physician had grimly confirmed, after she had recovered enough lucidity from the third delivery to understand his words, that she was not going to be able to conceive again.

There were going to be no more children.

King Enlil had made sure that the matter remained private, and Arturia had spent a longer period than was necessary in her chambers, focusing solely on her three children instead of the kingdom’s affairs as she instead usually did.

No more children.

To be fair, becoming a mother had never been a chief desire of hers. As the wife of a Lord who was also successor to the throne, having children was certainly positive, but she had also many duties and many other expectations to meet, and they didn’t necessarily include producing heirs.

She considered herself lucky, for she had come to be very close with her husband in spite of the marriage being forced upon them. She couldn’t determine if she now loved him, but she cared very, very deeply about him and she knew she had his trust, given that she was the only person with whom he shared details of his responsibilities.

While King Enlil was the official monarch, Gilgamesh was already fulfilling most of his obligations about ruling, and Arturia had not hesitated in standing by his side and doing all she could to offer him her unconditional support. She was more than happy to share his burdens, and pledged to do all she could for the good of the people, as they were going to be the future king and queen.

Having heirs wasn’t necessarily a requirement for them, as they could have adopted someone they deemed worthy once the time for succession came, same as King Enlil had adopted Gilgamesh as heir after the death of his son, Prince Enkidu.

Her first pregnancy had been unexpected, as had been the ones that followed, but the two intelligent, lively boys and the little girl had been welcomed with utmost joy.

Now, however – she was never going to have children again.

It wasn’t necessarily a loss, as she had three healthy kids already, but she had still been surprised herself at how that knowledge had affected her, making her involuntarily close up, keep to herself and preventing her from being her usual self, at least until her husband had showed up in her chambers again.

She had actually wondered how such a development was going to change the relationship between them, and in fact, she had half-expected him to keep to his own rooms from then on.

Ever since Princess Ishtar’s deception had been revealed to her, Gilgamesh had never spent his nights away unless the physician prescribed her absolute inactivity because of her conditions. Due to the exertion caused by the last pregnancy, which had forced her to spend its last weeks in bed on strict resting orders, he had had to stay out of her rooms for a few more days, and she wouldn’t have been truly surprised if he made that change permanent.

Instead, Gilgamesh had taken her aback when he had guessed her line of thought right away and, the same day the physician declared her back in full health, he had come back to her chambers. And he had wasted no time in letting her know in no uncertain terms that the fact that she could no longer conceive wasn’t even _remotely_ enough to keep him away from her – from his precious wife.

Indeed, on the same occasion, he had been rather blunt in making sure she was reminded of how much he had come to care about her.

Not that she could so easily forget it. She had found out, much to her surprise, that she didn’t mind some of his possessive – and attentive – behaviour, not even in public, especially after those few months when he had acted detached from her in order to make Princess Ishtar confess her crime of murdering her husband.

His best friend’s wife had since managed to avoid the public trial by swallowing a vial of poison inside her prison cell; because of Arturia’s desire to protect Prince Enkidu’s reputation, the capital had only been told that she had lost her life in a tragic accident. But her Lord husband had been firm in also informing everyone of another particular: the fact that Princess Ishtar had never been with child. Arturia had said she wasn’t concerned about the rumours about his infidelity as long as she knew the truth herself, but he refused to let her be criticized and pitied through fabricated gossip.

He had not cared about his own reputation in the least; all he had wanted was to make sure that no one dared sully his Lady wife with utter falsehood.

She wasn’t therefore able to have any other doubts left about her husband’s sincere regard for her, even after learning about the permanent effects of her three pregnancies.

King Enlil, while being a rather bad-tempered sort of person, had a soft spot both for the children and for Arturia herself, and considered Gilgamesh nothing short of a son. Every time the king met those he considered his ‘grandchildren’, he complained about Lady Arturia being an overprotective mother; but he had been flabbergasted at finding out that her husband completely backed her up in this – as he did in many other things.

While Arturia was always concerned about the children’s health – having lost all her brothers to fevers had left a permanent mark on her – Gilgamesh wasn’t any less paranoid over them than her. He had lost his best friend not to fevers, but to the cruel machinations of Prince Enkidu’s own wife, and that had happened only because he had been the heir to the throne. Being now the heir himself, Gilgamesh was perfectly aware of the fact that his children – and his wife – could be targeted and their lives threatened because of their status.

And while King Enlil complained about their paranoia, he wasn’t blind to their concerns for safety, and in spite of his grumpiness, he supported them in protecting their family.

Another thing the king had grumbled about at the beginning had been his adoptive son’s irremovable decision of never attending any important councils without his wife, firmly having her be an active participant in all the kingdom’s matters when possible. The other nobles had been scandalized at first, but they had not been given a say in the decision and they had also been quickly forced to recognize that her presence was far more productive than they thought. And when the king himself had voiced his objections, Gilgamesh had very straightforwardly informed him that since he had been given the task to rule the kingdom, he would do so gladly, but on his own terms.

Therefore, in addition to being protective parents, King Enlil could also protest about the future king and the future queen ruling together: something that went completely against tradition but which they instead didn’t seem to find concerning in the least.

Yet since King Enlil himself had invested his adoptive son of the powers to rule, he could hardly do _anything but_ happily keep grumbling about the breaking of traditions.

…

…

Feeling Gilgamesh’s hand still on her shoulder, she grasped it lightly and squeezed it, before standing up. Gently going to settle the now sleeping baby in her cradle, Arturia then went to sit in front of her husband, who had manoeuvred the two armchairs in a way that would allow them to keep an eye on their boys as they talked.

His eyes travelled around the room to make sure once again that the doors were closed and no one else was there aside from their young children, who were playing with large stuffed toys and occasionally climbing onto each other.

Arturia leaned forward slightly, sensing his reluctance to start talking.

“What is the matter, Gilgamesh?”

He looked rather serious, and met her eyes with an unreadable stare.

“As the threat of famine has been overcome, the council is now starting to ask for a different form of governing,” he finally said, a frown appearing on his face. “They are asking for a parliament.”

She remained silent for a few moments, and then carefully questioned, “Would that be such a negative thing?”

He raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. “Would you be in favour of it?”

She studied his face keenly. “You aren’t against it either, I believe, as it would simply be an expansion and a new name for the current council.”

A brief ghost of a smile crossed his features at her accurate observation, but he was soon composed again, and she felt that the subject was safe enough for her to ask, “What terms are they suggesting?”

Frowning again, he clarified, “That’s precisely the point. If the request was for a more balanced division of duties, it could be discussed, but most of the nobles are corrupt – and all they want is to take power from the monarchy. They don’t know anything about governing, nor do they want to; they are merely greedy.”

Arturia brought her hand to rest on his, proposing in a steady tone, “Why not offer a mediation? Give more duties to people you know can be trusted, but make sure that the final decision on the results of their assignments is still yours. They would learn more about governing without managing to ruin anything of what we’ve worked for until today.”

He didn’t move from his position for a long while, and she waited, knowing perfectly that what she had said was something he had had in mind already but was reluctant to act on.

Guessing the reason for it, she went on, “I imagine King Enlil’s position on this is the most troublesome?”

He nodded almost imperceptibly, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“The king is resolutely against it.”

“The king was also against me joining the council,” Arturia pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “He was against every decision you made that would modernize what you recognized as an outdated system – yet you never let that stop you from continuing with what you knew was the best course of action.”

A small smile titled her lips upwards as she added, “And, forgive me, but King Enlil doesn’t consider a day _reasonably_ productive if he doesn’t manage to _unreasonably_ disagree with every single person he meets.”

Gilgamesh’s faint amusement was again palpable, but only briefly, because he suddenly moved his hand so that he could grasp hers, which had still been resting on it, and held it in a firm grip. His eyes turned sombre.

“His health is slowly starting to fail him.”

Arturia’s expression turned slightly sadder, although she had suspected as much.

She squeezed her husband’s hand back, and Gilgamesh added, his tone becoming suddenly lower but managing to remain firm, “He’s my last remaining family.”

As much as he cared about her and knew he didn’t need to hide anything from her, he had far too much pride to let his composed mask break in worry, and she knew and accepted that.

As for his worry itself, she understood him very well, for she had lost her entire family, and his own parents had passed away just a couple of months before. She knew what he must be feeling, as she had gone through that same kind of sadness.

“King Enlil is still among us,” she gently told him, emphasizing what he was currently being too troubled to recognize. “You haven’t lost him. And you have a larger family; now you have our children. You have me.”

He leaned forward and, taking her aback, swiftly enveloped her in his arms, kissing the corner of her mouth with intensity, before murmuring, “My divine future queen.”

A faint pink blossomed on her cheeks, and he smirked at seeing it, now kissing her fully on the lips.

He was however the first to – rather reluctantly – break the contact, meeting her eyes again seriously as his hand went to caress her cheek. One arm still around her, he made her stand up with him, and took a few steps towards the window, still keeping her at his side and taking care not to forget about the playing kids.

His gaze was lost in the distance as he specified, “Together with the physical one, King Enlil’s _mental_ health is also failing him.”

Arturia looked at him intensely, beginning to see what he was saying.

“Has his behaviour gone overboard?” she questioned, knowing that it was unfortunately very likely.

Gilgamesh’s lips formed a thin line.

“When has he ever _not_ exaggerated in dealing with the other nobles?” he remarked, but the dry tone took the implied humour from the sentence away.

He sighed, barely holding back his exasperation at the elderly king’s occasionally irrational behaviour, and his expression turned more earnest. “The very real consequence of this is the growing disquiet among the nobles, and the subsequent possibility of our children being targeted.”

Gilgamesh didn’t have to add that Arturia was in possible danger as well, because they both knew that it was very unlikely; the seigneury had come to respect and fear her, therefore she was safe from any possible threat they might dare pose. But he and his wife had three very young, helpless children now, and as outrageous as it appeared to be, the nobles could make attempts at harming them.

“When our first child was born, and on one of King Enlil’s good days, I had already discussed this with him,” he carefully revealed, and Arturia’s eyebrows rose, for she had been unaware of such a thing. “He suggested… that it would be for the best if you and our son left the court for a few years… so that there could be less danger around you.”

By the extreme reluctance with which Gilgamesh was telling her this, it wasn’t hard for her to guess that he had firmly been against the king’s idea, and he clearly still was. But as he _had_ brought this subject up, it meant that now, he was considering it potentially worth discussing.

Since she was however in complete disagreement with that, she stared at him until the earnestness in her eyes made him turn his own on her to meet her gaze.

“I am _not_ leaving, and neither are our children. Nothing guarantees that other, unknown places are in any way safer; here at least we know who and what constitutes as threat. A separation would only make communicating much more difficult and increase the number of dangers at the same time.”

She was usually hesitant about doing anything more than touching his hand when they weren’t alone, as it wasn’t in her nature to be so forward. However, since their boys were enthusiastically occupied in pulling each other’s hair at the moment and their little girl was sound asleep, she came a little closer to him, allowing his arm, still wrapped around her waist, to pull her body more firmly against his.

Holding his gaze, her fingers lightly traced his forearm, as she calmly continued, “I do not wish to leave you, nor do I believe it would be useful for our children’s safety. You detached yourself from me in the past to protect me, and while it worked, it brought us both pain. This time, such a solution wouldn’t even be helpful.”

Her voice seemed to lose some energy, but she still went on, unwavering. “If the nobles are indeed going to pose a real threat and create a crisis, I refuse to disregard _your_ safety by taking off and not facing it together with you, Gilgamesh.”

Gilgamesh was quick to hide his amazement, but Arturia was able to glimpse it nonetheless before fond amusement replaced it.

“You can no longer deny it when I call you my divine queen, Arturia,” he teased her, smirking lightly at her renewed blush and then bringing his hand up to briefly caress her cheek again.

He was however still preoccupied though, and soon heaved a sigh, his hand passing through his golden strands before he let his arm drop by his side once more.

“I fundamentally agree with a different distribution of duties in governing, as it was already my intention to go through with something of the kind to balance out the work that needs to be done, but I am rather perplexed about _your_ reasons, Arturia, for supporting this idea. You would be the first to consider it safer for just one person to be taking care of everything; therefore having you suggest this is unexpected to say the least.”

Her green eyes looked hesitating for a fraction of a second, before she admitted, “It’s for selfish reasons.”

Seeing him stare at her questioningly and with slight skepticism, she elaborated, “You are a capable ruler, and therefore you know that delegating your powers to inadequate replacements isn’t in the interest of the kingdom’s prosperity. However, making sure that not all the duties weigh on your shoulders would have the advantage of giving you a little more freedom.”

She seemed a little uncomfortable under his piercing stare, and specified, “More _free time_ , that is.”

She brought her hand up to caress his that was back on her cheek, and held his gaze firmly. “Duty comes always first, and ruling the kingdom requires the most attention. But I want you to be a husband and a father, not _just_ a king. I don’t want you to be always submerged by tasks; instead I would like you to be able to see our children as they grow up, to spend time with them, to be part of their life as much as possible in order to give them – and ourselves – some normalcy.”

She stopped when she heard him chuckle in open amusement at her words, and she barely managed to avoid reddening once more, too distracted by her sudden self-conscious need to avert her eyes to see the unabashed warmth in his expression as he stared at her.

She wasn’t embarrassed because she had told him what she honestly thought; she _was_ however embarrassed because of the rather innocent way in which she had expressed it, which had made him chuckle at her.

Feeling discomfited, she made to act on that need and actually avert her eyes from him, but his free hand went to cup her other cheek, trapping her gaze with his.

Forgetting her bashfulness, she decided that, since she had been honest until this point, embarrassment or no embarrassment, she should conclude her confession the same way. “I’m aware of how selfish this is, but I want you more to myself.”

She was not going to break their gaze after holding it for so long, but she had not expected her husband to stare at her so passionately and with a wide smile that held every feeling she had ever wished to see in him.

She realized suddenly that, while certainly enjoying the moment, he had not been laughing _at_ her at all.

She couldn’t help blurting out, a little uncertain, “I thought from your laugh that you were displeased?”

He chuckled again, but this time she didn’t miss the warmth in it.

“How could it ever be unpleasant to hear the woman I’ve come to love requesting more of my time?”

He took advantage of her stunned blush to peck her on the lips. “We’ve been discussing the kingdom’s affairs for far too long, and we’ve been able to reach an agreement on them much more quickly than I expected. Our children deserve more of our attention now.”

And keeping her body tightly enveloped in his arms while guiding her back to the armchairs, as soon as she beckoned the boys closer he leaned even closer to murmur in her ear, “Do you truly think that you’re the only one who has the desire for more time together, my dearest?”

...

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End file.
